Silence is Golden
by splendeur
Summary: Do you remember that "it" group in high school? You know, the daddy's little girls who got everything they wanted, including YOUR boyfriend? Thats us, I mean, I was a part of them. And life was perfect for us, until one of you little losers decided you were done. And you snapped, with poor little Claire Lyons only playing as a slain pawn in your great big game of chess. T for now.
1. foreword

I'd never given much thought to the way I'd die. After all, they (whoever "they" are) had only given me seventeen short years of life, and truth be told, I was having way too much fun to mull over something as grim as my own demise. In the light of day, I never really thought I'd descend into the afterlife so quickly. I, like all others, thought I'd at least be married, maybe have a few annoying kids; before I kicked the bucket. Ideally, I was going to break the world record for old age, but that's what every self-absorbed eight year old ruminates. By the time I was seventeen, I had torn that embarrassing scrapbook page into shreds. My current dream had been to continue the same (maybe better) life I lived. And it was going to come true, I was sure of it. Why? Because I deserved it.

My name is Kristen Gregory, and I was part of that group in high school. You know, the "it" group. The populars, the elite, the A-list. No matter what moniker you used to describe us, even "those bitches" in some cases, you knew we were the best. We were the daddy's little girls. The angels. And mainly, the people that got anything and everything we wanted. Including your boyfriend.

My best friends and I were the ones born with silver spoons in our tiny perfect bee-stung baby lips. No, literally. The tiny, probably slave-made solid silver versions that our parents bought at the flagship Tiffany's, blocks away from Lennox Hill, where we were all born. Awed? Don't be.

At the young ages of eight and nine, all of our families, ever so unconnected (hey, NYC is big), made the decision to move to the suburbs. Westchester County, to be exact. All in the summer of '09. Granted, my dear mother and father waited until late August to uproot the family, trailing far behind the three families I would soon get to know so well. So naturally, this made me the freak in third grade, where all of the natives had already pretty much figured out who's who. But I wasn't alone.

Being the new kids was a bonding experience so tight, I'm not sure if we'd have lasted eight more years without it. The "in" group of third grade took one look at our perfect curls and strong New York accents, and deemed us stuck-up heiresses with no friends. We were out. And so naturally, all of us, spread out at four different elementary schools, begged our parents to switch schools. Most would call it a stroke of luck, but we considered the fact that we all ended up at OCD destiny. And throughout the remainder of third grade, we shed our loser titles and claimed our rightful place. Alphas, the supreme rulers. Knowing that, you might think we should of had a little mercy towards the loser herd at BOCD High. You know, a little of the "I've been there" thing. But we weren't. We were worse.

Like anyone really cared in our lives. Our parents were a successful businessman, a world-class lawyer, a famous talk-show host, and the richest art dealer in the country. And, of course, their passive stay-at-home partners. With the exception of my parents, we were always allowed everything we wanted. My parents went through a strange "lets pretend we've lost all of our money to freak the shit out of our daughter faze" around seventh grade, which almost got me kicked out of the group. By tenth, I'd broken down my mother's psyche so well that she hardly even cared what I did, who I saw or where I went. My dad? He was never really around to care. I sometimes still wonder if his business was completely legit. All I knew was that it paid my credit card bills, and that was all that mattered.

I'm sure that most people at BOCD hated one of us in some way or another. We probably even hated each other. That's how toxic our high school was. But that probably doesn't surprise you, because every high school in the great union is like that. Popular girls are like great dictators. There's a small core of supporters, the sub-A-list, and then there's the clueless peasants, and finally the rebels. Unfortunately for most, our reign was guaranteed to last for four years, if not more. The only difference is that popular girls are as common as dirt.

Look at me; I'm speaking of high school like it's already over. Done. Kaput. Complete. It is for me. After all, I finished high school when I was seventeen. Not because I was smart or anything, even though I was, and definitely not because I was one of the lame summer-birthday kids. No, there's a little more sinister reason why I was done so young.

I was murdered on the night of February 31st. What? Great, looks like I've got a smart audience. Maybe you're too smart. I was. There is no 31st of February, you say. Well, I guess we're going to have to pause this story. Why are you so eager to learn the date of my expiration? That's creepy. No, wait, I'd be curious too, I guess. If it wasn't me.

As they say, patience is a virtue, and you're going to learn a lot here with me. Truth is, I know exactly what happened to Claire Lyons. I know exactly who killed her. Why? Because they killed me too.

If you're listening, my dear foe: let it be known, I am Kristen Gregory. And I'm going to haunt you until the day you die.

* * *

**Leave your thoughts in a review. Should I continue? Or is this too much like TKAB?**

**xx,**

**- sp **


	2. jumpy cars & cheating dads

**Thanks for all the reviews guys! I love reading them, it's the highlight of my fan fiction experience! So, it's a little early, but any guesses at the killers identity? There's going to be a series of hints hidden in this story, so keep a look out for that!**

**First reviewer gets their pick of another story updated today! **

* * *

:: 1 ::

**I-67 Westchester Highway**

**Tuesday, September 26****th**** 2013**

**10:13 PM**

"The eff are we listening to?" Massie Block spat, her gold-shimmer dusted hand shooting out to press the mute button on the stereo. From the force of her extension, the steering wheel jolted to the side, causing the jumpy Mercedes coupe to stall.

"Fuck." Massie swore, barely managing to get the car back in gear. "I should've gotten the BMW. This car sucks."

"Hey, Mass." A lanky blonde in the passenger seat turned to face her. "Maybe you should take a hit of something. You're way stressed, blaming cars and all. "

"Unlike you, Kris," the brunette snarled. "I'm not a shit-faced druggie."

"See? You have to relax." Kristen straightened. "Obviously, I was joking, only the nerd herd goes for drugs. Although… Mushrooms would be right up your all-" One throaty giggle later, a studded Valentino stiletto was off and headed towards her head. The car jerked to a stop. "Damn. Seriously, Mass. What the hell is up?"

"What the hell is UP?" Massie's voice was nearing a screech. "Do you awn-estly not know what is UP? Has it slipped your mind that my most important party of like -ever- coming up in –like- two days, and we're not even CLOSE to being ready?"

"Shut up Massie. People could be staring." Kristen muttered, adjusting the wide Oliver People sunglasses and lowering her head.

"The windows are tinted, ditz." Massie sighed. Counting on the deserted highway, and the late hour, she made no move to restart the car; instead she reached into her leather Kooba and pulled out her canvas makeup clutch.

"That doesn't stop the fact that we're stopped in the middle of the effing highway!"

"Please. Like anyone cares." The girl dismissed the question with a wave, busy dusting bronzer onto her cheekbones. A video chat with Cam Fisher, her ah-dorable boyfriend, was on the agenda as soon as she got back to her estate, and this seemed like the perfect place to touch up, driving laws or not.

"He might."

"What?" Massie glared at Kristen in the pull-down mirror over the steering wheel. "What?" She reiterated.

"Heeeeee might." The blonde parroted, sliding down her leather chair. Massie's bones filled with dread, as if they knew what was coming before she did.

"Roll down the window, Ma'am." A gruff voice commanded from her left. Massie obeyed.

"Uhmm... _Officer_…"

"Ye-hmm." The large black-suited man responded. "Sadly, Miss Block, sweet talking ain't gon' get you outta this one. Mmm-mmm. Present your license, Ma'am."

Kristen's muffled giggle was the only sound heard in the car. "You… know him Massie?" Massie sent her back the best glare she could muster under the circumstances.

"Missus Block… I see you ain't been doing any better since I last stopped yah. Got some new wheels, yes. Ain't gon keep me from giving ya a ticket, though."

"Officer Mahoney..."

"An' I ain't gon' take an'more bribes." The officer chuckled. "So let's see… care to 'splain why you are stopp'd?"

"My car… is broken?" Massie's voice trailed off, and then returned with more force. "It's being a little unpredictable…"

"'s that so?" The man softened his look. "Well, then… I can call a truck fo' yah. No prob'm"

"Tha-"

"No, no, I ain't done." He paused to chuckle. "That don't 'splain why you gon' be in the high-occupancy lane. Fa' as I see, you only got one pers'n in your car."

"Are you blind?" Massie spat. "Clearly, my friend is… in… the car…" Kristen had disappeared.

"Sorree missus, imaginary friends don' count." The man's chuckle turned into a full-blown belly laugh. Massie adverted her eyes in disgust. A couple moments later, a ticket covered in messy scrawl drifted into her lap.

"Befo' I leave, I gon' call a truck for yah. It'll be here in a jiffy."

"Great, thanks." Massie sighed sarcastically, before slamming her fist into the button that controlled the window. "You can fucking come out now. Kristen. Hilarious, by the way." She spat.

The sound of hysterical laughter flooded the car, as the petite blonde rolled out from under the dash. She smacked the car seat and started gasping like a seal, laughing too hard for any sound to be emitted. Before she could calm down, the sight of Officer Mahoney in his car, sneaking a jelly doughnut sent her back into psychosis. Massie rolled her eyes. As the cop car passed, he flashed a "call" sign quickly followed by an "a-ok" symbol. Massie gave the back of his car the finger, and flooded the gas once he disappeared from view. Tow truck be damned. Kristen smacked against the back of the seat.

"That was not even remotely funny." Massie said, facing forward, trying hard to control her emotions.

"Yes. It. Was." Kristen erupted.

"My parents are going to…" Massie fought a trembling lip for a moment, and then finally gave in. Her shoulders began to shake as she started to cackle. The girls howled and cried from laughter, recounting Officer Mahoney's southern drawl the best they could. Massie tried her hardest to drive in a straight line, not wanting to explain two tickets in a one-night span to her parents. She was probably already in enough trouble. The thought was sobering, and once again she found Kristen's voice irritating.

"Now, Massie. You know imaginary friends don't count!" Kristen shook from laughter, too amused to notice her surroundings. They had arrived at the Montador building.

"Kay, sorry to be abrupt, but we have to be in the city at like, ten AM tomorrow, and I still have to do a ton of stuff. So get out of my car."

"LYLAS!" Kristen smiled, before slamming the door and dashing towards her building. She ran lightly, on the tips of her toes, almost like she was ready to take off flying on every rebound. Massie rolled down the window, hoping to catch her before she disappeared.

"ISAAC'LL BE HERE AT EIGHT SHARP!"

"GOT IT!" Kristen shouted, wiggling her fingers in a salute. A half-second later, she was gone.

**The Block Estate**

**Tuesday, March 26****th**** 2013**

**10:36 PM**

Easing open the heavy door, Massie Block looked to see if signs of her parents were apparent across the mostly-dark wood foyer. It didn't matter much, she had no curfew, but it was always nice when she had the place to herself. She was free to do anything she'd like, raid her Mom's secret in-case-of-a-divorce cash stash (not that she needed the money) or even read personal business notes of her father's (he didn't keep his office locked).

Massie felt funny knowing that she usually was left to her own devices. Most parents of kids her age breathed down on necks, initiating crazy fights and emancipation requests by the time the girls were sixteen. Not her parents. Massie couldn't remember the last time she'd had a real fight with her mom, not counting the stupid ones about grades or boys; hell, it might have been all the way back in eighth grade, when her parents tried to force her to move to England. Of course, that situation had smoothed itself out a day later, when William, her father had received another job offer, this one right in New York. With a fair amount of bullying from Massie, William sold the dream castle in who-the-eff-knows-where, England and rebought the Block Estate. Happy ever after, right?

Minutes later, as she ascended the stairs, she double-checked to see if there was light under her father's office. None, but as she passed her parent's bedroom, flickering TV light betrayed at least one's presence. Massie knocked. Best to get the ticket drama over with, right?

No one answered. She knocked again, this time more agitated. She heard nothing but the TV, turned up high to not betray any noise. Finally she heard footsteps nearing the door of the glacial suite. Her father opened the door, dressed in a thick white bathrobe he was trying desperately to tie. The girl stepped back in disgust, and adverted her eyes until her father was completely dressed.

"What, Massie?" Her father snapped. His eyes were wide, and he looked energized.

"I got a ticket." Massie simpered. "And I wanted to let you know. It was a total accident, my frien-" William held up a hand.

"Okay. Just slip it under my door and I'll deal with it. I'm sure you did nothing wrong." Her father said quietly. "Goodnight."

He flipped around, eager to return to his room. His fingers grasped the single door handle, and pumped it enthusiastically. Massie watched in utter confusion. Her dad never acted like this. He slipped inside without another glance in her direction, and forced it closed, probably fervent to hide what was inside. The door caught on a stray slipper. It didn't close fast enough. And so Massie saw a naked woman, with big chocolate brown doe eyes and buttery blonde waves splayed across the covers. A woman who was definitely not her mother.

**The Marvil House**

**Tuesday, March 26****th**** 2013**

**10:48 PM**

Bwoop.

**dmarvil**: any chance you could do 2 copies of calc homework 2night?

**kgregory**: lol, yes, how many should I miss?

**dmarvil**: gotta make it believable.

**kgregory**: how do you pass that class? Lol

**dmarvil:** I barely do, I need a tutor!

**kgregory:** sure one of the nerd herd won't mind… a little face time with a hottie out of their league

**dmarvil:** that's going 2 give me nightmares

**kgregory:** that aside, did u hear abt whos planning on going 2 mass's

**dmarvil:** like all of our grade, rite?

**kgregory:** guess who exactly

**dmarvil:** idk, I mean everyone who's cool is going… who?

**kgregory:** think Lbr leaning on the L

**dmarvil:** nooooo

**kgregory:** yes! herr bff c.l. too

**dmarvil:** no! I hate her so much! I wish she'd just disappear

**kgregory:** ik, can u believe we used 2 be friends with her?

**dmarvil:** plz never document that again… massie will freak

**kgregory:** haha yeah ik, gtg im so tired, c u in morning

**dmarvil:** k gn

**?**

**Tuesday, March 26****th**** 2013**

**10:59 PM**

A shrouded figure sat in complete silence. Click. Click. Click, Click. A smile spread across the darkened face. It was enough. Actually, more than enough, perfect.

**2697_se_61882913_h TO mblock, arivera, kgregory, dmarvil**

**I'm all-seeing, bitches. Clock starts now. **

Sure, maybe a bit bland, but hey, it would work. This was only the start of the plan. Better to give them a fair warning, anyway. But just to make sure…

**2697_se_61882913_h TO clyons**

**You've been warned. Tick. Tick. Tick.**

**-end of chapter two-**

* * *

**So, clearing a few things up. Some of you had a couple questions about the previous chapter. Kristen was killed after Claire Lyons, by the same person. Why? You'll have to wait for that! :)**

**How? You'll also have to wait. **

**It's fall of their junior year (11th). Massie never left for england, Claire is no longer in the PC for reasons unknown so far. **

**Anymore questions, I would be happy to answer! Leave them in a review!**

**edited by the wonderful ailes du neige**

**-sp**


	3. icy winds & strict scheldules

**2 letter words are always useless.**

**Hey guys! I changed a few things from the first chapter! Namely, it's now the fall of their Junior year, and instead of Spring Break (if any of you remember the short reference in the previous chapter) it's now centered around a house party Massie is hosting. And Massie Block is dating Cam Fisher.**

**Any other questions? Ask. More info at the bottom!**

* * *

The problem with twenty minutes is that it was never enough. Nothing Judi Lyons considered worth doing could be accomplished within twenty minutes. She couldn't type a chapter of her-ever growing-but-going-nowhere romance novel, she couldn't bake a batch of her family-famous chocolate chip cookies, or even help Todd, her son, with a simple arithmetic problem, as Todd was prone to frustration and resulting to screaming at the page.

To accomplish anything worth doing, she needed _at least_ thirty minutes. So that's why, faced with a dreaded twenty-minute block -too short for anything worth doing, too long for something frivolous- Judi Lyons decided to suck it up and cross off number thirty-six on her to-do list.

Calling Beth Abeley was never fun for Judi Lyons. She knew Layne Abeley was Claire's best best best _best_ friend, and therefore it was expected that she, herself would be best best best _best_ friends with her mother. But, truth be told, Judi disliked the whole ordeal. See, before Claire had met Layne, she had been _best _friends with Massie Block, the daughter of Judi's old well-liked college room mate, Kendra Block. That had been the best six months of Judi's life. Then... the Abeleys had taken a crash-turn, merging into Judi's peaceful lane of traffic, where everything was in it's place, and no one _ever _dared to disrupt.

Choosing this moment to creep silently into the kitchen, Claire Lyons remained tight-lipped, as her mother walked straight past her, pacing the length of the moderately-large kitchen, mumbling incoherent thoughts to herself. Claire self-conciously tugged her bangs, Layne had convinced her to cut them _again_, and Claire was regretting the layered asymmetrical cut every single time she brushed the long flaxen hair out of one eye. Plus, Layne had sworn it would get her attention from Cam Fisher, Claire's long-time crush, and even after two weeks, their relationship hadn't changed. Not that Claire was surprised.

"Oh, glad to catch you Beth!" Judi exclaimed, Claire catching a look of disgust spread across her features. "So glad to he-yes, Claire's fine... -no, why?- -of course... hold on- I see... Goodbye." Tightlipped and force-grinning, Judi spun around, her senses akin to a spy's catching another presence in the room.

"By god Claire." Judi tsk-tsked. "I told you to pull up your hair into a ponytail. That color looks horrendous."

"I like my hair like this..." Claire nervously touched the layered, shaggy hair that -guess who- Layne had also talked her into. "It's so... you can see the black on the bottom even if it's up."

A loud sigh was all she got in response as Judi Lyons exited the room, muttering something about wishing she had a normal daughter.

"I'm going out!" Claire screamed at her mother's retreating figure. It was a test, really. Claire didn't want to go out. But, as usual, Judi Lyons failed the test, with nothing but another muffled wish to prove her non-mute.

* * *

Alicia Rivera officially hated her life. _It figures_, she thought, as she shivered, that _this_ would be the day that both Isaac, the Block's driver would be late, and that her trusty Ralph Lauren parka would let the cold seep deep into her bones. After another minute, she stood up abruptly, and turned her back towards the street. When that proved useless against the howling wind, she took two steps forward, and started typing her personalized code into the ornate iron gates. With or without the trusty tram to take her back to the main house, she was going to take the liberty of twenty minutes (ten minutes each way) to run and get her totally-unflattering-but-toasty Lands End bomber-jacket. Of course, as soon as she finished the twenty-digit code after two failed attempts with frozen fingers to blame, she heard the crunch of tires on the gravel behind her. Muttering a few expletives, she turned and hit 'cancel' then took four running steps and jumped into the inviting warmth of the heated range rover.

"Given up that no-running thing, I see." Kristen smiled from the corner. Alicia smirked back, smacking Kristen's thigh in response.

"Isaac, we're ready to go." Massie called towards the front. Alicia looked around curiously, seeing that Dylan was already in her place, which was strange. Almost always, Dylan was picked up after herself, and it was odd to see the flaming redhead in her seat.

"Change in the order today?" Alicia simpered.

"Of course." Kristen said matter-of-factly. "Your house is closest to the I-56 turn-off, and we really need to cut time on this trip. Right, Mass?"

Alicia's eyes fell on the alpha's face. Shocking, to the very least, was the faint bumpy redness gracing the apples of cheeks. Massie... breaking out? Had she actually ate sugar?

"Totally." Massie said, but the liveliness of her voice was gone. Alicia thought for a minute. _Was it possible that Massie had received that weird IM too? _

Alicia's features hardened. Massie couldn't be scared, right? Because, if Massie was scared, Alicia should be scared. But how would she bring it up?

Thankfully Dylan blurted before Alicia could part her glossed lips, "Did you guys get something weird last night... on IM?"

"The blocked thing? Yeah, I deleted it." Kristen lifted a clear bottle of Evian to her mouth. "So weird."

Alicia sat back, realizing that unconsciously she had been leaning forward.

"What?" Massie rolled her neck once. When no one responded, she asked again.

"We all got this weird message last night." Alicia said quickly, figuring that counted as her answer. "You didn't?"

"I didn't go on IM last night."

"Oh." And that was the end of the conversation, so said by the alpha. _All hail._

* * *

On a normal wednesday morning, Sheriff James McCallum had a scheldule. In fact, it was an every-day-of-the-week schedule, but he took special care to uptake it on the hump day of the week, because after all, a schedule made the day go faster.

He had woken up at exactly 5:05 this morning, gotten dressed in his running outfit by 5:10, and was out the door by 5:15. James always took the long route, headed straight through old Westchester, then through the new part, and then taking West Magnolia for two miles all the way back to his luxurious condominium at 2980 East Magnolia. At 5:45 he was in the house, and five minutes later, he was in the shower. Never late, and never taking one minute more or less than ten minutes.

At 6:00, he headed downstairs to watch 15 minutes of news, even though most of it he already was aware of, and made himself a quick pot of substitute coffee to drink. By then, his close-cropped hair was completely dry, and he headed back up to his bedroom for dress. He slid on his camel colored suit (by golly did he hate that), and quickly headed out the door. Once in his Escalade, he allowed himself a second to check his watch. 6:29. Ahead of schedule.

By 6:45, he was at his desk at the back of the police office. Nivens, his assistant, knew the routine, and unsurprising, a venti americano was already waiting on the wide L-shaped structure. Cracking his knuckles, he rolled over to his Mac, and powered up. Next on the routine? Email, of course.

The first ten emails were all grumpy old residents complaining about kids on the street after seven at night. Delete. Technically, he was supposed to answer every email, even the stupid ones, but who really followed that rule? Across the office, he could see officers dime a dozen deleting emails without even looking at them. Yes, the Sheriff was _much _more responsible. But, then again, he had to deal with prank emails too.

**From: 7896LA72ee (yahoo)**

**To: sheriffmccallum (gmail)**

**Ignore this, you know you will... **

**Friday, be alert. Your stupid schedule might not help you then.**

**Tick. Tick. Tick.**

_Delete._

* * *

A bit of a boring chapter, sorry! I hope it didn't get too rushed at the bottom! :)

So anyway, there's already a hint somewhere in this story... but here's another one.

Bean's eye is an ally.

Confusing? Good.

-sp


End file.
